Another Round for the Strong of Heart

Another Round for the Strong of Heart

The Bottoms

Crawling from the rubble at first you just thank God you’re still alive,
Cuz you know you should be dead,
Put your faith in Main Street, in Wall Street, and your own feet all along,
Now you know you’ve been misled

Oh Agony!
Catastrophe!
Take my hand and come with me,

Fall from the top to reach The Bottoms,
Come join the lonely and forgotten,
And as we pass the broken homes,
on broken cobble stones we hear a voice,
“Who cries for the forsaken?”

Welcome to your new home you’ll get used to the squalor,
I realize you must have your doubts,
But give yourself a week, a month, maybe a year,
You’ll be surprised with what you can live without,

Oh tragedy!
Humanity!
Pick yourself up and come with me,

Salt of the Earth

It’s been a year since tragedy,
Took the stories from his lips,
But now that it’s time to turn the page,
He finds his hands, they shake just a bit more,
Than they did when he was younger

The dying light reveals a man,
Whose haggard face shows just like a brand,
But his eyes are cold and bright,
Like the January sun

He watched his kingdom’s walls come crashing down
His fall from grace laced with regret,
A pauper king sitting on his wretched throne,
Clutching hopelessly at what was once and may never come again

Cuz’ he’s the salt of the earth,
Knocked down but undefeated,
They’ll win the war but he’ll take the day
He’s the salt of the earth
Courtesies will go unheeded,
Head held high he’s gonna make ‘em pay

A weary sigh, he turns to fight,
Cowards crawling from the woodwork fall upon him left and right
His busted knuckles raised,
He goes out to me them

For so many years he chose between being decent and being right,
But will your pride and your convictions keep you safe and warm at night,
What good are walls, when they’re built to shun the world,
Embrace the cold and bitter end

Hey Sergio!

An ancient promise softly beckons like an old forgotten song,
My whole life I’ve sought escape I’ve kept my distance,
Past transgressions pull me down to the river where I drown,
Recollect faces of those bygone days

I remember Sergio, he was from Guatemala,
A bare-knuckle boxer in a yellow Monfort hat
A charmer, you’d let him watch your kids if he wasn’t on parole

Well he prayed like a saint, but he cursed like a devil,
He’d greet you with a smile and a wink and a nod,
But step in the ring, and he’d tear you limb from limb

Well you can lay me by the river,
Throw my ashes to the wind,
Back to the island, I’m going back to the island,
Now I can tell you where I’m going,
But only God knows where I’ve been,
And Lord knows I’m going right back to the place where it all began

And don’t forget McIntyre on the 1-2-3!
They never made a difference at all,
But they went down swinging any way,
And those we left behind, some are dead,
And some, we’d like ‘em to be,
There’s a reason that I left but now it seems I can’t stay away

Hit the Deck

Friends hear me well, I have not long to speak,
I bear a message for the duped, the trodden upon, the weak,
I have walked through the ichor of subterfuge and greed,
Meant to mollify the masses’ national identity,
A once proud and independent people now lie in shackles,

And the Sunday bells no longer toll within,
Where the elders lead in sanctimonious sin,

They’re comin’ in, hit the deck!
The grip upon your neck is a comfort, it tells us when to breathe,
And toe-to-toe to the death,
We’ll fight for what is left, the scraps the bosses leave,
But here we go, hear the song,
Indelible and strong, as one, we struggle to our knees,
And through the roar and the din, we’ll prove that we are men,
As our sons and daughters bleed

Don’t need your sharp mind or strong back, our very lives are forfeit,
But can you still call yourself a victim when you’re so complicit,
As we wallow hedonistic, complacently abused,
Where are the bootstraps our forefathers used,
Self-reliance and integrity are notions antiquated

Take Me Back

Yesterday still brings me down these summer streets so old
Where our voices are but echoes and our stories go untold

I was there when it all came together
I was there when it all fell apart
We had all ages at the Joyo
The hardcore in the garage

When the Westside came to Pawnee
They took us in as one of their own
We had 5 guys inside an old Ford van
No clubs here to call our own
As the years drift by many dreams did die
At the hands of responsible fools
Left behind what they love, this old town
Wont give up, these old bricks, wont fall down
Not til this life finally drags ‘em to the ground
Take me back to the days when our fathers sung
Worked their backs til the days last bell had rung
Take me back to the days, down these summer streets so old
Where our voices are but echoes and our stories go untold

Just a short drive down through the bottoms
From those Belmont streets we ran when we were young
That familiar buzz from the trees now gone
on a porch so many friends called home

Though the years they never come between us
They move on just like we knew that they would
A generation now lost to progress
Hold tight to the lives they once knew

Empty Streets

These empty streets, don’t speak to me no more
These city lights, have got nothing more in store
I see my youth stand still on independence avenue
These roads don’t lead me home
And as the years drift by, those days we took for granted
Return to us no more

Those times we’ve lost they fade they bleed together
Times we shared so long ago
Those days when time stood still we thought they’d last forever
Now we remember them no more.

Another round for the strong of heart
They don’t run when the rain comes crashing down
We never had it all so bad
Fist fights on the skirts of a bleeding town

When endless nights grow cold
We’d run those empty streets
And left our troubles waiting back for us at home
Those fields of green run gold when summer skies turn grey
Before the winters long grip takes hold

Those times we’ve lost they fade they bleed together
Times we shared so long ago
Those days when time stood still we thought they’d last forever
Now we remember them no more.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

They say a black soul wears a white shirt
Beneath the skin true malevolence will hide
Look a man in the eye as you stand on his back
And keep your company always in shirts of black

The Throes of Misery

As the moonlight hits my eyes
The pain for what Ive lost wont let me be
A madman on the run, chasing freedom
Though I know its out of reach

And as the cold it stings the flesh and clangs the teeth
To struggle on keeps death at bay it slows defeat
For a sin to drag me down into the deep
It must be worth its weight in gold
Hell reaps what mad men sow

My hatred grows, it builds up steam
Wont diminish when in the throes of misery
To waver now, admit defeat, forfeit life
Makes a coward out of me

Tunneled visions of my past
Keep me focused strong and steady in the knees
Understand the task at hand
Though it feeds on me like some sort of disease

From the Underground

The kids are loose, they claim the streets tonight
The sun falls low through the locust trees then out of sight
One night of freedom then its back inside

A hidden truth, agendas cut in stone
A cowards heart can be sold for a reputation
When is it right to break tradition

And the children they were singing protest anthem punk rock songs
And the words they scream aloud
they echo strong within their hearts and in their minds

We wont fall back into the shadows we’re heard as one
broadcast this struggle from the underground
unite our words forgotten ideals into song
rain down upon deaf ears our voices loud and strong

they struggle on, peace dwells behind closed doors
an open book now a fight for reciprocity
this world is full of those who lack civility

your integration, not forced assimilation
true laurels hung on a thread to your sinful pride this time
it dangles free over your bottom line